Reflections
by Dusked
Summary: Severus finds Professor Granger roaming the restricted Hogwarts corridor late at night. As revenge, he sets out to humiliate her and the insufferable, know-it-all image she holds, but is surprised when his plan takes an unexpected turn. One-shot. Smut. AU, EWE.


**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

This one-shot is partly taken from an old Severus/Hermione that I wrote around a year and a half ago, called "The Heart's Desire," (no one probably remembers it) — but it was appalling, as it at the time where I was just starting out with writing, so I've taken the main element and added to it. Hopefully this revised version is better than my other attempt.

Also, **an important message: **As you know, my laptop broke recently, and so I've been trying to sort all of that out. I've uploaded Chapter 2 of **A Breaking of Disguises, **which I hope to upload soon. Next on my list is **Mixing With A Malfoy.**I also plan to start writing a Scorpius/Rose Veela fanfic, which I hope with more angst/drama than just for fun. Something serious. Anyway, thank you all for being so patient! Enjoy!

Thank you to my beta: **_RoseWeasley3._**

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**DISCLAIMER: **The rights to _Harry Potter_are in the ownership of J.K Rowling and Warner Bros. This fanfic has only been written for fun, and other readers/writers entertainment.

**RATING: **M+/NC-17.

**WARNING(S): **Strong, graphic sexual content, and some strong language. Oh, and this is a very detailed, wordy fanfic.

**EXTRA NOTES: **This is completely AU, EWE, Post-war and post-Hogwarts. Characterisation may be an issue, particularly with Snape as he is such a complicated, but fantastic character — but I have tried my best at writing him. Again, with most of my fanfics at the moment, this isn't very serious, just a bit of fun. Enjoy!

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_**REFLECTIONS**_

_**By: Dusked**_

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.

**Winter, 2006**

Severus did not regard himself as a cold man — towards anyone he disliked, such as those who were immature and petty, yes — but he did embrace a slight positive side; his humour for instance, if he said so himself, albeit from another person's misfortune, or if a situation could potentially be used for a cunning plan.

It was approaching midnight when he came across the best one yet.

Not only because it was a highly amusing sight, but because it involved Professor Granger, whom he'd found wandering down the dimly lit corridors as he completed his rounds; he'd expected a few teenagers fumbling at each other in a deserted corner, of course — not finding Granger heading for the forbidden side of the castle, from the way she whipped her head around every so often, she knew she was not supposed to walk around these hallways, especially not at this hour.

_A few months into your new job, and already breaking the rules, _he mused with a sly smirk, tracking her steps in the midst of the shadows; hardly a challenge, as he hadn't managed to pull of the task of a double-agent without the perfected stealth and a focused mind that years of training had offered him. As she slid away around another corner, he chuckled softly, _Ah, Granger, you daft girl._

When she had handed in her application for the Transfiguration post, he'd almost thrown it straight in the bin without second thought, but Minevra had snatched it from his hands and — in her thick, irritating voice that caused a stab of sharp pain in his temples — told him, in simple words, to take the stick out of his tightly clenched arse and to put a stop to with this ongoing grudge. And along with Albus' portrait tiresome encouragement, he'd cracked under the pressure. That happened a lot nowadays, from the strain of post-war and the duties of running Hogwarts.

He wasn't his old self anymore; physically damaged, and emotionally drained — not that he was bouncing off the walls in his youth — but from the years of torture he'd undergone, his joints had become stiff and inflamed, with the odd attack where he'd suffer severe vomiting and spasms that left him immobile for as long as twenty-four hours. Which, to further humiliation, he would be forced to soil himself and lay in it until able to move. His appetite had pretty much disappeared, too, leaving him with a gaunt and skeletal looking body. And he hadn't helped his condition by chain-smoking and downing several bottles of firewhiskey as part of his belief that there was no point in living if he was already close to death.

And when Granger had arrived, although he had not shown much difference, it felt like his shoulders had another ton of weight dropped on them. He had given her a more than a little hostility the first time she'd sat next to him during supper, which admittedly, he held slight respect for her, as she must've plucked up some of that Gryffindor bravery to make such a dangerous decision. More so the risk to try to talk to him; one that begun and ended with silence on his behalf. But she continued to sit next to him, much to his disapproval, despite his unawareness and vain attempt to push her away, and had done ever since, unfortunately.

Yet it did have its benefits, like catching her in the act — this being something he'd have great joy of confronting her about._Not so innocent, after all. _He smirked again, watching as she came to a stop outside the heavy oak door that only some knew what lay behind it.

Maybe working in this hell-hole of a school did have some perks.

**~.~**

It was several days later when Severus chose to corner Granger, at the end of an average filled Friday — average as in his dunderhead students hadn't made any noticeable improvements, in practical work, common sense, or their attitudes. The clock's strike that indicated end of lessons hadn't come sooner, to be honest. And once the last of Granger's students had filed out of her classroom, he silently entered, closing and locking the door with a subtle flick of his wand.

As he'd predicted, she hadn't heard his arrival, too busy tidying away equipment. Other than the earlier classes mess, everything else was in pristine and well-organised — one thing they agreed with, and had in common, at least; he believed a disorderly room was a key reason for failed teaching.

She was an adequate teacher, he'd give her that. She had the qualifications for the job, even after returning from the war to complete her N.E.W.T exams, where her grades had been one of the highest. Her preparation skills were excessive, bordering on needless work, but it paid off when her students homework was due in on time, and she'd marked all the papers within two nights. Certainly the type of woman who could go further, but the one thing she needed to work on was controlling her class — the pubescent youngsters admired her so much that distractions came easily; their whispers thrown around like bludgers, about how being taught by a world-famous war hero, and how her being "fit" was a bonus.

At first glances, he wouldn't necessarily class her as fit material; in all honesty, she was a little more than fit. Contrary to belief, Lily hadn't been his only interest in women, and so when an attractive woman passed by, he would notice. He was no virgin, either — people, specifically students, believed this barbaric rumour, even though they had no right to snoop around in his personal life, whether he was sexually active or not. He'd had his fair share of women; recently most had been Muggles, none of which he had been romantically involved with, more quick shags to quell his needs. In the past, The Dark Lord had arranged some prostitutes whom he did not want, but under instruction, he was pretty much forced to engage with them; at least he had been given privacy.

He didn't really think a relationship or anything more than physical was his style. Trying any form of stable commitment didn't seem likely unless it had been with Lily, but he'd moved on from her a year ago; he loved her, but as a friend.

Leaning against one of the work stations, he crossed his arms. "Good evening, Professor Granger," he drawled coolly, smothering a smirk as her sense finally awoke and she looked up, and he read the surprised that flittered across her features before she hastily replaced it with a neutral look. "A moment, if you would?"

"Um, of course," she said slowly, and clearing the remaining objects, she tucked her wand into the sleeve of her robes, unconsciously licking at her bottom lip. "What is it you need... Severus?"

The hesitation of his first name being spoken didn't go unnoticed; it had been his constant persuasion that she called him Severus under their given circumstances, being not only adults now, but colleagues — tiring, was what it was each time she would mistakenly call him _sir _or _professor,_making him feel as if he were as old as Merlin, much more than being Headmaster did at his age of forty-six.

"An answer," he replied softly, linking his hands behind his back; nothing had changed on her face, so he continued, "I was wondering if you were familiar with the one who happened to stumble upon the Mirror of Erised several days ago. Any ideas?"

Her guards dropped for a split second, enough for Severus to find the momentary glitch of shock. Recovering, she cleared her throat. "No, I... I can't say I have."

Chuckling darkly, he watched as her throat bobbed on a nervous swallow at the throaty purr of his voice; he didn't understand why so many found his voice so alluring, maybe powerful — intimidating, even, but not in that kind of way. The only good use of it was it could seduce a woman to his chambers if used correctly, but even that was becoming repetitive. "Now, now, Granger, neither one of us would've been hired for our jobs if we were stupid; so let's not disrespect each other's intelligence by pretending that we are."

"It's hardly breaking the rules," she finally admitted in a low grumble, cheeks flushing a faint red. His eyebrows twitched; he'd not seen that reaction for years, but he liked it, as it briefly kissed her cheeks, and disappeared below her robes. _  
_

"Oh, yes, wandering the corridors that are strictly forbidden — as well as being an authoritative figure — doesn't show a bad example of behaviour at all," he remarked sarcastically, mouth curling into a smirk, solely from real amusement. "If I recall correctly, you were the one who would obey all the rules, and wanted your fellow students to follow that pattern. A lot has changed, it seems."

As he'd talked, Granger's mouth had fallen open, anger touched with embarrassment lighting her eyes. "A bad example?" she exclaimed, blotches of pink patching her skin. "You're one to talk!"

"Oh, do tell."

She tried to appear bold by straightening her back, but there was a distinctive waver in her tone, as she countered, "Following young women around isn't exactly something good to brag about."

"Brag is such a strong word; impressed, perhaps," he replied smugly, delighted at how he was wearing her down. _Ha__, _he thought; apparently, her responses weren't working as well as they normally would._Your war instincts won't work now. _"But before this goes off track — which I know you're hoping it will — please, enlighten me with why the Mirror would draw your interest. Surely it would be an empty use to you, no?"

"It's none of your business."

Placing his hands on the table, he leant forward, fingers drumming lightly against the wood. "As your Headmaster, I've every right to know the reasoning behind your late-night venturing. So, what was it that you saw, Granger?"

Well, this was a wonderful twist of events. He'd only planned to annoy her a bit, maybe even warn her that he'd dock her pay if she continued to break the rules, just to piss her off, but now, this was much more interesting; seeing her so flustered, blushing to the roots of her hair and eyes heated, it was... enjoyable — not so much that she was clearly uncomfortable, but because it was a tantalising sight.

"I'm not going to tell you that!" She cried, eyes ablaze now. "It's personal!"

He smirked. "So personal, in fact, that you were aware of being following, and yet allowed it to happen anyway? I may know you entered the room where the Mirror is kept hidden, yet I did not mention _how _I came to know."

"I..." Swallowing thickly, her eyes darted away for a moment. _T__his won't take much longer._

"Better yet — did you _want _me to follow you? See what the great Hermione Granger desires?" She was burning now; he could almost feel the heat pouring off her skin. "Because you see, I have my guesses, and all I need is for you to confirm them."

She remained silent, lips parted as she inhaled what sounded like steadying pants. This situation could fire back on him, proving that he might just be wrong for once, so severing the distance between them, he snaked an arm around her waist, the other tangling in her hair before he hungrily crushed his lips to hers.

"You're such an arrogant git," she gasped heatedly, but she melded against him, arms coming up to grip at his shoulders.

Snickering softly, he tugged her closer, running his tongue over the seam of her lips. She shuddered against him as he explored her mouth; there was a faint taste of coffee and toothpaste, he noticed absently, and coupled with her floral perfume, the ink that stained her fingertips, and her fresh, natural scent, it caused his blood pressure to rise and a tightening in his trousers as a low growl rumbled in his throat. And she returned it just as eagerly, deepening the kiss with a croaked and drawn-out moan.

This was very different to the women he'd been with before. Through the building lust, he tried to focus on all the sensations; her hair was still frizzy, yet softer, as he tightened his hands in the loose locks, and her full, chapped lips — from what he guessed was from her nervous chewing — moved furiously against his own thin, cold ones. Yes, this was different, but bloody better.

He parted long enough to unbutton the top of her robes, latching onto the exposed part of her neck, and as his tongue flicked out to gather the salty beads of sweat, she whimpered, grabbing fistfuls of his hair, encouraging him to sink his teeth into the flesh. Her moans were coming more regularly now, more unrestrained and louder each time. Pulling apart her robes, he tugged it off her, along with her plain t-shirt, and tossed them to the ground, ignoring the quiet whine as he held down her arms, as she tried to cover her barely-clad torso, stepping back to look her over.

It wasn't much; she wasn't a perfect, golden-skinned goddess, but she still made his throat go dry. Even with the innocent white bra, she was gorgeous, really, and he subconsciously licked his lips at the sight; a flat stomach, yet curvy hips, and breasts that would fit nicely in his palms, her erected nipples straining against the fabric. His eyes caught the slight concealment charms shimmer on her skin; one started at her shoulder that stopped just shy of the underside of her bra, and another was on her left forearm. He knew what was hidden beneath that one. Bellatrix herself had bragged about her handiwork, and Severus had to suppress the impulse to murder her, as not even Granger — the insufferable witch — deserved such cruel treatment.

Her chest heaved with shallow, needy breaths under his scrutiny, and he knew he'd need to speed up in the a moment, as despite having a red flush tinting her face and chest, there was an urgent longing in her eyes that told him she close to losing all rationality and self-control.

Leaning forward, he took her into his arms, again. "How long?"

She sucked in a breath as he bit down again, leaving half-cresent dents. "How long what?"

"How long," he repeated, puncturing each word with a hard peck along her jaw until he reached her mouth; he hovered there, watching as Granger tried to catch his lips again, but he pulled back, teasing her with the light, warm puffs of his breath. "Have you seen me in the mirror? Come now, don't pull the foolish card on me now — it is seemingly obvious you saw me, or you wouldn't be wrapped around me, acting so provocatively."

She tore at his frock coat, pulling the middle apart and down his arms; her movements were frantic, hurried, and so he had to help her before she ripped his arms off like a mad woman. She then nibbled at his bottom lip, gasping, "I'm — I'm not quite sure when exactly, but it was after the war, when you revealed your true loyalties. That's why I've taken a different interest in you."

Of course she'd know about that. Potter must've shared his memories as soon as he'd gotten his hands on them — not that he could complain, really, as he'd willingly given them to him, and at that time, he really didn't think he was going to survive a venomous snake attack, so it hadn't mattered. At least Potter hadn't shared it with many, nor exploited it on the papers, which would've caused unwanted attention; he already got enough of that.

"This isn't pity, is it?" he growled, pulling back to watch her eyes.

Breathless, she shook her head. "No! Of course not." He raised an eyebrow, hoping she'd take it as a signal to continue. "I... I like you, Severus, but not only because of what you've done. I probably should've phrased it differently."

"Perhaps another try?" he offered, pressing a kiss to her collarbone, and he elicited a squeak as, with little difficulty, lifted her and placed her on the tabletop, parting her legs to step in between them; this deliberately caused his erection to come into contact with her bare stomach, and she twitched and wriggled at the feeling. He hissed, grabbing her hips to hold her still. "Careful, Granger — I'm sure neither of us would want to unload a gun without hitting the target first."

She giggled breathily, trying but failing to stop her jerking, so he eased off for moment. "Before we both lose our minds, you haven't explained why this is happening."

Holding his burning gaze for a few seconds, and swallowing hard, she reached up and popped out the buttons of his white linen shirt, strangely starting from the bottom and making her way upwards. She stopped at the last two, but instead of undoing them, she slid her hands underneath, fingertips barely brushing against his snakebite scars; even with a charm covering them, it was possible to touch and feel them.

"I visited you in St. Mungo's within hours of you being admitted."

That he had not been anticipating, or her fingers inching closer to his neck, but he didn't dare flinch, drawing up all power to hold back any physical reactions. He knew the expression on his face was probably priceless; his lips parted and brow wrinkled, and when he spoke, it came out as a rasped, breathy whisper, "You did?"

She nodded, and bit down on her kiss-swollen lips. "You looked peaceful for once in your life," she murmured, breath hitching in her throat as his hands tightened on her hips and moved away from her invading fingers. That didn't stop her, as although she respected his unease, she finally slipped the shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. And noticing he'd bowed his head slightly, she tilted his chin back up. "It made me realise that it was probably the first time you'd been free of stress for a long time. Believe me when I say it's not pity, because it also made me see you differently. You're not so... hostile anymore — a snarky bastard, yes, but that's tolerable. You'll never agree with me, but you've changed for the better."

It didn't matter if he'd been rendered speechless at that moment because she pulled him down in for a kiss, thoroughly snogging for several minutes before releasing him. "That's why."

He smiled, not a wide grin, but enough; never, not even Lily, had been so open with him, so honest. Usually, he'd purposefully avoid any conversations concerning his ill-health and what had happened that night, which ridiculously, was an attempt to save his self-presevation. He'd crossed that line, harm already been done. And maybe it was because this was Granger, who was known to broach and press a subject, that made him listen. Or naturally, his recent understanding of what it felt like to be cared for, was what she had just said. He just hadn't seen it before — she cared, actually cared. It was oddly... relieving.

And it made him realise, with mild surprise, that this wasn't about getting back at her now, not at all — it was because he _wanted _to.

"A snarky bastard?" She was about to return the smile, but he'd deftly wound an arm around her back, and stepped forward again, rubbing his hard erection against her jean-clad front, all whilst unhooking her bra and dropping it to the ground. "I agree with you on that point." _The others I'm not so sure._

The room was quickly filled with the echos of her high-pitched yelping, and she bucked against his hips unevenly, making him think if she'd actually experienced sexual intimacy. He had to pin her arms down when he leant down and wrapped his mouth around one of her stiff, rosy-beige nipples, biting down gently before soothing it with a swirl of his tongue. And as she shivered when he blew against the dampened skin, he pulled back a fraction and peeked up at her through his lashes. "Have you done this before, Granger?"

She blushed, and her hands — which he hadn't realised were in his hair — tore at the roots painfully. "W-what? I —"

"I don't remember you being this eloquent," he noted, lowering his voice to a husky murmur, caused by the tempting lure and damage on his throat in the shack. "Stuttering like a first year, and jumping so much it's like you've never been touched intimately before, hm?"

"If you're suggesting that I'm a virgin, you're completely wrong." She said through gritted teeth, eyes narrowing dangerously. "If I were, I wouldn't spend my first time on a table! I've just not thrown myself around — I do have self-respect."

Brushing his lips over the reddened, abused nipple, he smirked as her annoyance died away. "My apologies for misinterpreting it, but enough talking." Discussing these unnecessary things had wasted too much time, excluding the significant details of why this situation was powering through. Right now, all he wanted to do was heard the chorus of moans and whines again, have her shaking underneath him as he slowly — _agonisingly_slowly — thrust into her; he wasn't going to rush this opportunity, he wanted to savour it, make it meaningful and make her experience things that she hadn't in the past with god knows what imbeciles.

Her breasts were red and raw by the time he'd finished kissing and sucking on them, and he dragged out uncontrollable noises from her puffy lips. Before he could unbuckle her jeans, she laid a hand over his, smiling reassuringly as he looked up, confused. "Before we continue..."

"Oh, God," he grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. "This isn't the moment where you tell me you have a child or something, are you? Because that really isn't my style."

She laughed, but it did not relax him. "No, don't be ridiculous." He couldn't smother the shudder as she trailed her finger down the line of hair on his stomach. "I want to see you, Severus — all of you. Remove the charms."

Snorting softly, he scoffed, "You aren't serious."

"Does it look like I'm joking?"

No, she didn't. Not one bit. _Dammit, _he cursed to himself, should he take them away? It would be unfair not to, really, as he'd picked out hers. He inhaled deeply. "I will... but on one condition." She nodded and cupped his face, thumbs smoothing out the tense frown lines. "You remove yours."

He couldn't reason with her by saying she shouldn't hide them, or be ashamed, because he felt the same.

Underneath the cover-up, there were webs of tiny, white scars over his chest and back that not even his wiry black chest hair could disguise. They were the result of a variety of punishments in the form of a knife, spells, even somebody's nails, whether it was Bellatrix's or the Dark Lord's. Not as bad as his other injuries. On the left of his lower back, a chuck of muscle was missing, healed over with patchy scar tissue that curved inwards; on the inside of his thighs were two slashes which had bled profusely, taking nearly two hours to blot; and in his mouth were also cuts and nicks, a couple back molars missing, too — all done to him for minor slip-ups in his missions.

It wasn't just scars that he hated about his body, there was parts of his appearance that he'd brought on himself. For a start, his skin was a disgustingly pale, and from consuming so much alcohol, it had a tinge of yellow, along with blotches of dark bruises due to being so frail. So thin that his hip bones jutted out, the knobs of his spine visible, as well as most of his bones. He was so deformed, and if he could, he would change all of it.

But out of everything, the one thing he most loathed, were the two ropey, thick and purplish scars on his neck from Nagini's bite, and although they no longer hurt much, with only the skin being slightly tight and tender to touch, it had more of an emotional effect on him. He hid them beneath layers of charms and his black collar, but neither could help relieve the irritation and discomfort of even the lightest brush of fabric on the wounds; even he couldn't bear to touch them, as the memories they held were far too twisted for his own mind.

Caught up in his thoughts, he hadn't noticed she'd dropped the charms, and now the two pink, jagged scars were very clear against her skin. She gave him a shaky smile. "Ugly, aren't they?"

He growled low in his throat, partly from arousal, and the other from the deep, healed gash on her chest. She flinched as his fingers roamed over the roughened flesh, but he ignored it, and as he continued his inspection, the words flowed from his mouth before he could reel them back in. "Well, they're not exactly pretty, but it does not make me think any less of you." He feathered a touch over the spiky handwriting that spelt out Mudblood. "This one especially; it may state a fact in a despicable way, but that does not mean you cannot defeat it and prove you are much more than what is led to believe."

All of it was sincere. She was stunning to his eyes.

"Pureblood, half-blood, or Muggleborn — it doesn't matter," he said a little forcibly, not because it wasn't true, but because he didn't wear his heart on his sleeve, "because you are a remarkable witch, nonetheless."

Her hands toyed nervously at a thread of her jeans, and she gnawed at her lip before asking, "You mean that, Severus?" As she looked up, he noticed a single tear escaping from between her eyelashes and down her flushed cheek. She sniffed and tried to give him a smile, but it came out trembling.

Unable to help it, he sighed and rolled his eyes and caught the drop on the pad of his thumb. "There's no need for me to repeat myself — I mean it."

"Oh, God, Severus." He stumbled back as she threw herself at him, their lips moving wildly against each other and their unsteady breaths clashing. "Please... please — I want to see you, all of you."

Hesitant, he pulled back and counted to three, and muttered the counter spell. He then felt the tingling of magic as the charms faded, exposing his scars, and her eyes widened a fraction before settling onto his. No, he wasn't going to look away; despite his dignity faltering, he couldn't be a coward anymore — he knew he was one, even when people like Potter were reminding him left, right and centre — and he just needed to get a grip over this. If she could be brave enough to do it, so could he.

With a short shake of his head, he leant away as Granger reached up towards his neck. "It's okay," she whispered, smiling slightly, "It's okay."

"No, Hermione." His voice had dropped to a raspy, pained whisper, and he closed his eyes for the briefest moment. "Please. Don't. Not — not yet."

She nodded, and instead cupped his cheek, bringing his face down to pick up where they left off. The feel of her hands graze over the many scars on his back was quite an unusual sensation for him, not adjusting to the close connection, but it wasn't unpleasant, as every other thing that was going on overruled it — more so in the background, and even there, it felt almost calming from how delicate and cautious her touches were, as if she was aware of his boundaries now without being told. He liked that about her; being able to identify or find something on her own.

In the past, sex wasn't this good to him. He'd only engaged to try to fill the void in his life, which did little. He didn't want anything out of the ordinary, like dirty talk or hardcore, that definitely wasn't his type of play; a bit of roughness, sure, but what he looked for most was something more than sex. He wasn't all that heartless.

_Fuck, _she tasted wonderful, her lips nipping and licking at his invitingly. For a second, he wanted to just take her, but it would be selfish to deprive her of pleasure; besides, she was nowhere near ready yet, regardless of her squirming and incoherent moans that were beginning to turn into loud cries, and he was barely even touching her. Beneath her twitchy reactions, she felt a bit tense against him, and as he glanced up the length of her body and into her eyes, there was a faint trace of worry. He'd need to ease her into this, get her more relaxed and unknot the kinks in her muscles.

Replacing his fingertips with his lips again, he bent down and covered one of her reddened nipples, listening as she released a faint, half-strangled cry, and he surprised himself by the groan drawn from his mouth, fascinated by her; she was responding beautifully — the magnifying keens and the gorgeous flush across her skin — and he needed to see, hear and feel more of it. Deliberately slowly, he unzipped her jeans, tugging them down her legs and letting them pool at his feet, stopping to roam over her lacy white underwear; he hadn't anticipated that at all, and he cocked an eyebrow. _Prissy bookworm, I think not._

From the sight, his self-control impressed him, although he had to drag in several stabling breaths to keep it level. Seeing her so brazen would be enough for him to finish if he just stood and looked at her, but that would be a short-lived experience.

His thumb begun to stroke against the most sensitive spot through the thin, wet cotton of her knickers at a tortuously slow pace, revelling at how quickly she'd fallen under his advances. Her head lolled back as she returned to lavish at her neck, arching against his skilled fingers, and attempted to gather as much friction as possible to fuel the climbing, needy burn.

"That's it, Granger," he growled. "That's it..."

He watched as her eyes darkened at his coaxing encouragement. God yes, seeing her relinquish control to him, unlike what the bossy little chit did, he took mild triumph in this success. Knowing that in any minute, she'd come undone in front of him, was nearly the cause of his undoing, as well as the steady rumble of her moan when he _finally _broke the boundaries by shifting her underwear and slipping two fingers inside her, holding her off on the edge by slowly pumping his fingers.

Sweat dribbled down his back as she ground against his hand, and before he could choke on a strangled groan, she reached down and touched him through his trousers with surprising expertise.

As a shudder passed through her and against him, the last pieces of his control broke. His desire-piloted mind retreated long enough for him to push out, "Are you protected, Granger?"

"Yes," she gasped out. "I take a potion. Now just get on with it already!"

Along with his own undergarments, he removed Hermione's underwear. Swooping in for another deep kiss, he dragged her to the edge of the table; somehow, heat radiated from her body, and tauntingly, he slid through her folds, slicking his length with her wetness. She only just managed to bite back a loud, throaty moan as he pushed into her, filling and stretching her, until he was buried to the hilt.

The feeling of her clenched around him so tightly in what felt like warm silk had him shaking, having to place his hands on either side of her head to keep him from collapsing. He took the first slow, controlled thrust, her nails stabbing into his shoulders as his scratched at the wood. By the time he'd hit the third, his drives became shallow and hard, his pronounced hipbones smacking against her thighs. Crossing her ankles behind his backside, she took him deeper, amplifying each of his senses.

It didn't take long for her to find a semblance of rhythm, slightly uneven yet the pressure spurred on an intense, blazing sensation in his abdomen. Tangling a hand in her frizzing hair, he devoured her mouth again, savouring the touch and movement of their bodies; no, he'd never felt anything like this in years, and it was bloody extraordinary to share it with Granger, but a part of him, deep down inside, was _okay_with the concept — in fact, it was more than okay.

Balancing on one hand, he reached down to stroke her in time to their erratic bucking, transforming her soft mewling into loud, begging cries, and knowing that he hit that spot deep within her, along with the creaking of the tabletop with each of his long, deep strokes.

Sweat slicked their skin, his heart slammed against his ribcage, and the smell of potion ingredients, herbs and perfume fragranced the air. As dizzying spells plagued his head, he kept up the swing of his hips. And then she whispered his name, and despite he'd heard it hundreds of times, this was blended with everything he'd ever wanted to hear. An utterance of pure ecstasy was magnificent to his ears, blowing the fuse that he'd waited so long to light, and it was the spark that caused him to snap.

Crying out a string of scrambled, unclear expletives, his back bowed as a wave of pleasure and heat crashed through his body. After hauling in oxygen that felt quite thick in his throat, he slumped, careful not to crush her as he shook out the left over ounces of pleasure that now droned through his nerve-endings.

Unmoving, they remained that way for a few minutes, listening to their levelled breathing, until she broke the silence. "Severus?" Once he uttered a dry yes, she continued, "You don't have to answer this, but I'm just curious —"

"Don't start rambling now, Granger," he sighed, pushing up on wobbly elbows to stare down at her. "Just spit it out."

Her swallow was audible. "What do you see in the mirror?"

He should've been offended by her invasion of privacy, but strangely, he wasn't. In truth, the last time he'd looked into the mirror was nearly five years ago, and then he'd seen Lily in the mirror as his significant other — the image that, at the time, caused self-loathing whilst a simultaneous unrequited love — as she'd stand by his side confidently, arm hooked through his, and smiled up at him with a fondness that used to send his heart into an irregular, dangerous tempo.

Today, he did still have that same reaction, and made him find the real man inside, as well as opening his eyes to find a developing future, but it wasn't from the red-haired, pretty woman, and instead from the frizzy-curled, beautiful woman he once despised for foolish reasons.

"If the mirror was with us at this very moment," he said, caressing her cheek and pressing a kiss to her temple. "There would be no change."

**~.~**

* * *

This took me longer than it should have, but it's done now! The ending might be a bit rushed, but I've tried to edit it so it's slowed the pace down. Thanks for reading, please drop a review!


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